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 before him. He knew he must be observed, was informed by an extra, well-developed sense of the commotion his appearance created, of whisperings and nudgings and of staring eyes. The general clatter silenced itself as it will on the happening of some event of common interest, some awkward, embarrassing event. Lydia chattered on.

“Put your hat upstairs,” she said, “I’ll wait for you.”

He went up obediently. As he descended he fumbled in his pocket for a small package.

“Here,” he said awkwardly, extending it to Lydia.

“A present! Oh…. You remembered.” She laid a slender, vivid hand on his arm—a touch he was to remember for years, his first contact with her. He winced. “I shall like it better than anybody else’s,” she said. “I know I shall.”

“I didn't know…. I never bought a present before. It was hard to decide.” If only she had known how hard it had been to decide; what hours of thought, of mental agony had gone to the selection of that small gift!

Lydia wondered what it might be, was almost afraid to open it, fearing some absurdity which would lay Angus open to the ridicule of her friends, but it is to her credit that she smiled